Magic's Eye
by Meandrina
Summary: Draco's in a right foul mood, and within a few hours of watching the dancing couple, makes a decision. It so happens that someone has to push him to it, someone he has always been scared of! *Yule ball. Dramione.* Please read and review! :)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Had this idea swimming around in my mind for a while..this is probably the shortest of my fics till date. Hope you like it! :) This is set in their fourth year.**

* * *

He walked languidly towards the refreshment table, stared at the wide variety of items that would've beckoned him on any normal day, and sighed. He plucked a single grape. Crushed it between his fingers. Watched the sticky juice flow, and wiped it with the fabric of his expensive robes. Nobody would care about his stupid robes anyway. He was far from being the center of attention tonight. They were all watching _them_. He picked up a goblet of water and gulped it down in a single go. It did absolutely nothing to curb the prickly heat that had settled deep inside his belly. The action reminded him of the flimsy excuse he had made to Pansy in order to escape. Drinks. Well, he knew she wasn't really expecting him back anyway. They both knew he was too far gone right now. Gone right out of his element.

He smirked as he imagined how the day would probably progress tomorrow. Her hair would be back to bushy, and her smile would be different. Maybe her cheeks would retain some of their colour, and her eyes their sparkle. Alight with the knowledge that she had the boys' attention now. He would make up an insult or two and she would go right back to pretending that he was an inconsequential person in her life, who was simply too much work to actively argue with.

For once in his life, he didn't give a flying fuck about Potter. Or Weasley. Or his own father. Or the nasally-challenged halfbreed who might or might not be dead. To tell the truth, he wouldn't have minded actually _being_ Potter for an hour or two..just for tonight, so he could simply be able to brush past her, watch her, smell her, fully capture that unsymmetrical tilt of her mouth when she smiled. Everything that he should have been able to do without anyone wondering what his deal was.

Still. He was not Potter and he was not Krum. He was Draco Malfoy, a person who would've never seen it coming. The first sight of those two together had been a blow similar to the one he'd received two years ago by the momentum of a Bludger hitting him in the gut over at the Quidditch pitch. She had dolled herself up nicely and clutched his arm as they'd been paraded around like royalty. He had been impressed but then, he'd also been unimpressed. Krum was too...too big. Too old. Too famous.

Who was flaunting who? Granger, an international Quidditch player? Or Krum, a hard-to-get, bookish girl too far above the normal fleet of girls who were lined up for him? Whatever the case, they seemed to be enjoying themselves right now. She was listening to him speaking in his thick Bulgarian accent like he were reciting some sort of interesting Arithmancy formula. Which was saying something because she loved Arithmancy. They were mashed up together, chest to chest, hand in hand, dancing lazily to the slow song that was beginning to grate on his nerves with each passing second. He had long given up trying to look away, because the burn would expand to his throat if he thought too long about his own behaviour towards her. So he had to look back at her face so that he could forget, just for a while, that she was that girl who thought he hated her.

"Making moon eyes from afar never landed anyone a girl, my boy."

He almost jumped out of his skin at the voice. The creepy magical revolving-eye was looking off to the side, while the real one was focused on him.

Professor Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody was the kind of man that his mother had often warned him against. Illicit substance abuse. Fishy personality. Rude, primitive disposition.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He tried to hide his gulp of fear, but both eyes were now focused directly on him now.

"Don't you? I can read your pasty face like a book, kid. You look like a child being denied his favourite candy."

He resisted the urge to step away from his distinct stink of milk turned bad, and stood his ground. He could not, however, control his expression.

"Keep sneering like that and you will really catch her." He grunted sarcastically.

Patting him awkwardly on the back, almost causing him to lose his balance, he moved on to terrify some other target.

Draco heaved in a sigh of relief. Taking another deep breath, he finger-combed his blond hair and straightened his collar.

The pair were walking this way, holding hands and deeply immersed in their own conversation.

He waited.

He watched as they walked right past him, and she didn't once look his way.

He smiled, not caring now, because next time she would notice him. He'll make sure she did.

* * *

Please tell me what you thought!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yeah,well...I accidentally continued it. :P I've no idea where this will go...I do like leaving things to the imagination.**

**I hope you like it. :)**

* * *

Hermione Granger tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and paused in the act of taking her History of Magic notes. Not for the first time, she was the only one in the class attentive enough to string more than two words together while Professor Binns continued with his lecture in his usual flat, droning voice. Beside her, Harry was examining the Marauder's map, as if expecting the key to the golden egg to magically appear in the old pages. Ron was sleeping.

There it was again. The prickling sensation at the back of her neck, alerting her to the possibility that she was being watched. It was hardly surprising. Nearly everyone had taken to staring at her after the night she had appeared at the arm of one Victor Krum as his formal date. She had even caught Sybill Trelawney, that old fraud, giving her the evil eye while he had been twirling her around in the Great Hall. In the spirit of the festivities, she had boldly wanted to flip her off but later figured that she would probably end up deducing it as one of those crazy, divine signals from the universe.

She turned, wanting to catch the offender in the act, but half the class was dozing off. The Slytherins looked awake, though their eyes were glazed over. Even Malfoy was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed.

Irritated, she resumed taking her notes, but her concentration had seemed to have flown straight out the window.

Only a few minutes had passed, when she was broken out of her reverie as a paper crane coming floating in front of her. She snatched it down before anybody could see. With eager fingers, she unfolded it.

She gaped at the contents.

It was a sketch of her. She was sitting exactly where she was, her head bent, taking down notes. She was depicted in the act of tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear as her other hand tapped rhythmically at the desk. Over and over again.

Her heart hammered rapidly inside her chest as she stared at it.

It was beautiful, and more than a little creepy. Who could possibly have drawn it? It was undoubtedly someone from the class. But who?

She risked another glance around her, this time taking it slow. But no one was paying the minutest bit of attention to her. Those who were awake seemed only restless for the lesson to be over.

With shaking fingers, she folded the piece of parchment, and slid it between the pages of her book, to be examined later.

For the first time in four years, Hermione Granger folded her arms upon the desk and laid her head down. Any likelihood of further note-taking completely banished from her mind.

* * *

Victor wasn't here today. He was always mysteriously absent from the library on Thursdays. She sighed, and could not determine if she was disappointed or relieved. It was definitely a break from all the staring he did. He rarely spoke, always preferring to hand over charge of the conversation to her. It was sweet but far from being entirely comfortable.

She was one foot into the Charms essay that was due next week, but her mind was still distracted from the note that she had received earlier. She had no idea who the person was, and for the time being she was committing to idea of ignorance being bliss.

Her head snapped upwards at the noise of a chair being pulled across from her.

It was Malfoy.

He took a seat directly opposite her and leaned far back on the hind legs of the chair as much as his balance would allow. His face was completely expressionless. No hint of his usual sneer.

She raised her eyebrows, willing him to get on with whatever was brewing inside his mind so she could go back to ignoring him.

He did not say anything, his eyes moved rapidly over her features, as if he was solving a big mystery.

"What?", she said.

He smirked.

"Did anyone tell you that you're sort of..pretty?"

Her eyes widened.

"I beg your pardon?"

He chuckled.

"I figured I might as well begin with flattery, since-"

"It was you." She blurted.

He raised one eyebrow.

All of a sudden, it made complete sense. Malfoy was the last person she would have expected to actively seek her out. And yet, he was here, trying his best to be funny.

"You made that sketch. You are the one who sent it. What do you think you're playing at, ferret?!"

"Very clever, Granger." He leaned forward. "What did you think of it?"

She gaped at his face. His grey eyes were intent on her own, sparkling with amusement, that smirk still playing on his lips. But this time it had a peculiar playful edge to it, one that set her heart racing. His whole countenance was so completely bizarre that she had to sit back in her chair to take it all in.

She was amazed.

"I don't understand. Is this a joke?"

He shook his head slowly, smiling at her. She wished her heart would stop doing that stupid fluttering thing.

"What did you think of it?" He pressed.

For some reason, she was blushing. She knew he was noticing every little nuances of her face and his undivided attention was making her nervous. Hermione Granger was not a nervous person. All words were failing her.

She looked at his hands, imagining them in the act of drawing the sketch, a sketch of _her._

She pushed her chair back and stood abruptly, gathered her things and shoved them hastily inside her bag. The whole situation was way out her comfort zone, and she had better things to do than entertain a possibly touched-in-the-head Malfoy.

She had barely taken two steps, when he captured her wrist in his hand and turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"Tell me what you thought of it."

She hesitated. Her hand was radiating beams of electricity straight down her spine.

"I...", she swallowed, "..it was nice."

He grinned and let go of her hand. She scampered out of the library before she could do anything stupid. Like flirt with Draco Malfoy.

She walked down an empty corridor, her pace slower than normal, her mind wandering. Eventually, she looked down at her feet, and despite herself, felt a little smile grace her lips.

She smiled all the way down to the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

A/N: Well that's it for now. Tell me what you thought of it! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Final chapter! :)**

* * *

Sometimes she catches him staring…no _watching. _He hardly ever stares at her; he'd never be so reckless; it's just that there are times when his eyes move of their own accord to land on her. It could be a stray lock of hair catching the sunlight, an animated gesture of her hand while she speaks, an elegant flick of her wand in the Charms classroom. All she had to do was _move_ and his eyes would subsequently follow, as if afraid of missing a single shift of her body.

She reacts the way she does every single time. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, nostrils flaring delicately and then her eyes flit back to whatever she's doing. A moment later she moves, discreetly trying to catch his eye again but by the time she does it, he's already looking elsewhere. He tries to appear stoic, as if his passing gaze was just that, a passing gaze. But he knows she's smart enough to decipher that absentminded, passing gazes do not occur so frequently. He knows she's dying to confront him about it all, the note, the accidental-on-purpose brushing past in the corridors, the staring, but she's still too hesitant to approach him directly. He hasn't made it easy for her either, what with his cruel taunts and childish name-calling. But he wishes she would view it as the pretence that it was, and actually _see _him for what he is now.

He hasn't insulted her since ages…well, five entire weeks to be precise but honestly, even thinking about it leaves a bad taste in his mouth now. He's out of ideas to make her understand, not like he was brimming with those in the first place, so he looks at her, mentally willing her to look up, take notice and _realize_. She doesn't.

He follows her out like he does every day after their last class, when she separates from her friends to meet Krum in the library. He doesn't want to, but he can't resist the temptation of watching her when she's not constantly on her guard. He resents Krum for it, for how _free _she becomes in his company, but he also knows that they're not an item.

He moves behind the shelf a dozen feet away from where they're seated, near enough to be watching without getting noticed, yet too far to actually hear what they're speaking. He watches her smile, watches her pat his arm and talk like she never talks to anyone. Still, there's no sign of the blush that he'd witnessed on that day. No scintillating spark in her demeanour. There's no chemistry, no zap.

It dawns on him suddenly. She's found an actual _friend _in Krum.

He watches him closely, now. There's that subtle glint in his eyes, but he can sense that it's harmless. They make a pretty picture, almost scholarly, enclosed between the shelves of a library, discussing ideas and events and _just talking. _And it's like he's floating above the clouds from the sheer relief of it all. He's so happy that he traipses off to the Potions sections and reads an entire book without a break.

By the time he's finished with it, he looks up to find her sitting across the table, staring at him. And it's a different sensation altogether, to feel her burning gaze on him instead of the other way round. She looks down instantly, before thinking better of it and timidly meeting his eyes again. He sees it now. That redness pooling slowly over her cheeks.

"You're so confusing." She says.

He cocks his head to the side. "How so?"

It's all the encouragement that she needs.

"I…I know what you're all about, Malfoy. I could say that this is some new trick of yours and that you're just trying to play with my head but somehow I think that you've got a better explanation. So why are you suddenly like this?"

He finds himself smiling. So typical of her to lay all her cards out in one go.

"Not suddenly." is all that he says.

He knows that it's not much of an explanation, and that she deserves better than that, but he still counts on her intelligence to unravel the words that he cannot speak. Not just yet.

She blushes some more.

"Okay. So, it's not sudden. But you have to tell me why. You can't expect me to believe that you've had an apparent change of heart and just conveniently after the Yule Ball. It seems as if you saw me in a different light altogether and were…attracted to that. Is that it?"

He laughs before he can stop himself.

By the time his laughter subsides, she's looking extremely embarrassed.

"This was a bad idea." She mutters and then she's pushing off from her chair, but he moves quickly and comes to stand just in front of her. She anticipated this, which is why she doesn't immediately move away.

He brushes the hair out of her face, she freezes when his fingers come in contact with her skin. It's all ablaze with heat. Or maybe it's just him.

She looks up into his eyes, and he can fully see that spark in hers. He leans in to mirror her movement.

"Your idea was alright." He whispers. "But mine's better."

He captures her lips with his own, relishing the taste and the texture, and though it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before she starts responding, it feels like hours to him. She's sweet, inexperienced and shy. So is he.

They've moved closer now, she's clutching his robes and he's holding onto her waist. She disengages from his mouth but he's not willing to let go of her just yet, so he trails kisses down her cheeks and just behind her ear.

When he finally moves away, she's smiling.

"You're something else, Draco Malfoy." She says.

"To you, I'd rather just be Draco."

The End.

* * *

Please tell me what you thought!


End file.
